


Smile

by Fierygirl0 (orphan_account)



Category: Bleach
Genre: Gen, Reincarnation, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-03-28 19:19:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3866761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Fierygirl0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they put Aizen in the first-division prison, he never expects to get let out again. The Hougyoku has infected his mind, the restraints are unbreakable from his position inside them, and he has no allies left. He sits and waits, until a visitor finally comes to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smile

I knew the day they put me in that chair that I would never escape it. Not by myself, anyway, and really what allies are left to me? Those that had been truly loyal were dead, and any left were far too few and scattered to dare the wrath of Seireitei. It would have taken an army to free me, as deeply as I was buried beneath the first division, and mine was dead. Even if it had been intact, who would have led it? My two lieutenants were dead, Gin by my own hand. Though, granted, he  _had_  tried to kill me.

No, I am truly trapped. Urahara created the ties they've bound me with, and while I may despise the man, I cannot fault and do not doubt his ingenuity. I am almost completely cut off from my sizable store of reiatsu, and my world feels silent and empty with only the faintest sense of Kyouka Suigetsu's presence hovering in the back of my mind. The shock of it, after the hundreds of years I spent with power running through my veins and her hisses in my head, is almost crippling.

Still, it wasn't hard to act unaffected. I've had several lifetime's practice after all. Hiding my true nature and my true emotions is a simple matter for me, it's what I've always done, so I laughed in their faces, confident and unworried, smiling right up until they twisted a black strap between my teeth to silence me.

I know how defeated I am, but at least  _they_ aren't aware of it.

They're still afraid of me, my quick trial and sentencing proved that. Restrained, unable to do anything but watch them, and they still acted as if the binds were about to spontaneously fall off me so I would be free to begin killing the Central 46 a second time. I couldn't even speak, once they'd gagged me, but they still flinched at every minute expression I made.

It was actually very entertaining.

Of course, no one else was allowed inside the show of a trial. Not the captains, or the vizards, or even Urahara. The man responsible for my defeat, for my capture, and he wasn't even allowed to see what they'd decided. And then of course there was the boy, Kurosaki. The only reason that I'd expended enough energy, been dealt enough damage, for Urahara's trap to activate. The boy is truly a wonder.

I honestly don't think they've told anyone but perhaps Yamamoto, and especially not Kurosaki, what my fate is to be. I can't truly believe that Kurosaki, naïve hero that he is, would condone what they're doing to me under the guise of justice. Kurosaki is too innately kind-hearted for a sentence like this to sit well with him, even if it is  _me_ they're sentencing. If they told him anything, which I doubt, it certainly wasn't the truth.

Twenty-thousand years, that was what they decided. Twenty-thousand years in silence, in darkness, in solitude. All but an eternity. Of course, that sentence only stands until they decide if my power can be safely cut out of me, or if they have a tool capable of killing me. They don't know enough of what the Hougyoku has done to me to risk anything now. After all, what if they attempted to kill me and failed?

The prison that they take me to is their most secure. A cell so deep in the earth that I would bet I was the first person to be condemned there in over a thousand years. I'd known of its existence, but not its location, so consequently I'd never sought to explore it in my time in Seireitei. I had no idea that the Hougyoku would make me all but invulnerable, immortal in their eyes though I sincerely doubt that's the case, so I never considered the necessity of scouting out their prisons. I assumed that if caught, I would be executed, and if defeated I would simply be killed on the spot.

Again, I hadn't truly counted on Kurosaki.

It is also fully obvious that I didn't fully understand the Hougyoku. Kyouka Suigetsu was none too happy with me and my decisions near the end, and I admit that if I had the chance I would do things much differently. I allowed the jewel to corrupt me, threw caution to the wind when I realized that death was no longer a viable threat. The rush of power was so intoxicating, so heady, that I let it cloud my vision. I should have known better, I  _did_ know better, but somehow I allowed it to turn me into something twisted and monstrous. I ignored Kyouka's screaming, her hisses at the back of my mind that were so muted by the Hougyoku's influence, and that is something I would  _never_ have done in my right mind.

She's an active zanpakuto, always ready with a comment or an insight, and over the years I have come to trust her implicitly. I am not a fool, I understand the true nature of a zanpakuto – unlike so many others – but that does not change my view. She is a part of me. Not a tool, not a servant, nor a partner. She is a mental representation of my powers, a reflection in a pond, she is simply  _me_. But a part that speaks and listens. Most times I understand myself, but when I do not, or I am unconsciously avoiding something, she informs me of it. It's invaluable, and her loss is the most painful of the consequences of my actions.

Despite that consequence, I can almost be glad that Kurosaki managed to stop me. I do not know what I would have done under the Hougyoku's influence, but I doubt it would have been beneficial to anyone, including me. I was blind to everything but defeating the rival that I myself had created, the boy that I had so carefully pulled through his evolution to someday challenge me.

A bad idea, in hindsight, but I had my reasons at the time. I wanted to give Soul Society a public hero that I could take down in front of them, to end their challenge of me. Kurosaki was a fascinating blend of components, right from the start, so I chose him. The death of his mother was unexpected, but not necessarily a downside. It made him tougher, and started a desire in him to never repeat the moment, to save anyone he could. Perfect hero material.

I hadn't expected quite how absurdly fast he would grow, but it still wasn't anything I couldn't handle. His power in our final fight, however, was much higher than it should have been, even considering his rate of growth. I should have realized what happened the moment he stepped into Karakura to defeat me, carrying his unconscious father, but I was well within the grip of the Hougyoku's madness by then.

Now, I realize what occurred. My destruction of the Kōtotsu – another symptom of the insanity and overconfidence that the Hougyoku gave me – allowed the elder Kurosaki to sequester them inside the Dangai, to teach his son – if my math and memory are correct – for almost three months of time, and only lose an hour. It makes sense of Kurosaki's ridiculous level of power, considering that this is the kid who'd learned Bankai in two days. Three months of constant training, though I do not know what it consisted of, advanced him far beyond where I expected him to be, and far beyond what I could defeat with brute strength.

I should have played it smarter, I should have used my superior skills and my experience to dance around him, and I should have done it all in Bankai. But I was so drunk on power that I never even considered the possibility that a  _child_ like Kurosaki could pose a true threat to me. True, it cost him all of his powers, and if Urahara had not implanted that seal within me none of it would have meant anything, but I still should have been more cautious.

In fact, I can still feel the Hougyoku's influence on the edge of my mind, and the sensation is mildly worrying. I have always considered my intelligence to be my strongest asset, far above and beyond my high levels of power, and this intrusion of the Hougyoku's presence into my mind has already crippled me once. I'll need to find a way to neutralize that, if I am to have even a hope of ever becoming what I was. Even if the transformations do not begin again, the device is interfering with my capability for rational thought, and that I cannot allow.

For now, however, there is nothing I can do. Until someone else interferes, or the Central 46 decide to do something else with me, I will be locked in this darkness. There is nothing I can do on my own.

* * *

 

The first time someone invades my cell, aside from the daily feedings and quite some time after my imprisonment, it is with the thud of a body being thrown and a cry of pain. In silence, in absolute black, I feel a body back up against my legs.

"Please, no!"

The slice of a sword through flesh is unmistakable, and the body falls away from my legs. A moment later there is the warmth of a hand near my face, and the strips of material over my eyes fall away. I blink them open, looking up at the unfamiliar face, as the man removes the gag from between my teeth.

I flick my eyes up and down his large frame, studying him. "A Quincy, hm?" I remark, offering the man a small smirk. He's got extremely long, shaggy black hair, and reddish-brown eyes, paired with well groomed mutton chops connected to a thick mustache. "So the remnants of the Quincy have made their move. Do you have a name?"

He studies me in return, for several long seconds, before answering. "We are called the Vandenreich, I am their leader."

"Ah, you must be Juha Bach, then. I've read about you, but I admit to only knowing second hand accounts and rumors." The Quincy extermination is not particularly well documented, it isn't something that Soul Society likes to remember.

"And you are Aizen Sousuke, the traitor who would be god."

I allow myself a soft sound of amusement, inclining my head the half an inch my bonds will allow me. "Indeed. What can I do for you, King of the Quincy?" He reaches forward, and I make a small noise of protest, his hand pauses. "As I said, Bach, I've read about you. I would prefer you not touch me."

He gives a tiny smirk, eyes narrowing the smallest bit. "Then it is a shame you are in no position to stop me, isn't it?" His fingers brush my cheek, and I inhale sharply.

I can feel the rush of reiatsu, even through the film over my senses, and I clench my eyes shut. It is an invasive push, one that I cannot combat without the use of my own power, and I am forced to bow under its whims. To my surprise, my awareness of the Hougyoku lessens, and I feel its presence in my mind withdraw. Bach's hand leaves my face. I open my eyes, restraining the urge to take in a ragged breath, and force myself to offer an unaffected smile.

"If you had not just sentenced me to death, I might have been tempted to thank you."

Bach gives a small shrug, an equally small smirk. "Everyone dies eventually, Aizen."

"True enough, but as I recall, your touch tends to hasten that eventuality. You've returned something I've lost, 'fixed me' some might say, but in return you will take my power for your own when I die. That's correct, isn't it?" He only smiles, but that's proof enough for me. "So you understand why I'll withhold my appreciation. Now, I doubt that was your only reason for coming down here. If you are here, it is likely your army is invading Seireitei as we speak. Have you come to offer me a spot beneath you, Bach?"

"Your reasoning is accurate, Aizen. I would like you to join me, to help burn Soul Society down around the fools that imprisoned you here." How eloquently phrased.

"My apologies, Bach. I have no interest in subjugating myself to a  _Quincy_. You will simply have to manage without me."

"As expected," Bach says easily, stepping back. "It was only a step out of my way to come down here. Are you certain, Aizen? As idiotic as Shinigami tend to be, these are very impressive bindings, you will not escape without outside help." I am fully aware of  _that_ fact. "When I destroy the Shinigami, you will have no other option but to submit to my rule."

I smile, chuckling. " _If_ , Bach. If you destroy them, then by all means I suppose there will be no other option, and I will fall in line. But that day hasn't come yet, and given the death sentence on my head, it seems foolish to put myself in a combat situation."

His eyes tighten slightly, but that's his only reaction. "Very well. I will return when Seireitei lies in smoking ruins, Aizen. It might be in your best interest to pray I'm feeling as merciful then."

I can't help another chuckle, my smile slipping into another smirk. "Please, Bach, threats don't suit men like us. Pretending mercy won't hide the fact that you will kill me only when you have no more use for me, or think my danger outweighs that usefulness. I don't think either of us believe in anyone worth praying to anyways."

His lips quirk in the tiniest of smirks, and I can see the brief flash of respect in his eyes. Good. "Very true, Aizen. Good luck then." He turns around, strides towards the exit, and I can't help a last remark.

"Ah yes, Bach?" He pauses, looking over his shoulder at me. "Do have fun with Kurosaki Ichigo, hm?"

There's the tiniest of frowns on the King of the Quincy's face, before he easily wipes it away. "That  _boy?_ " he says, condescension obvious in his tone. "He is far from being a threat."

"So, he's regained his powers?" The lack of answer confirms it, and I give a soft sound of amusement. "The two of us certainly have created quite the monster, haven't we?"

"You put the hollow in him," he says, a reprimanding note to his voice.

"You let him live," I counter. "You wiped all impure Quincy from the world, yet Kurosaki and his sisters all lived. Kurosaki's mother was certainly a pure-blood Quincy, even if at that time she was containing a hollow within her, but his father was a Shinigami. She should have lived, and he should have died.  _You_ chose to let him live, that forced the hollow I had created into Kurosaki."

"It doesn't matter," Bach states dismissively. "Kurosaki is trapped in Hueco Mundo, and having trouble defeating one of my weakest subordinates. He won't have nearly enough time to advance as far as he needs to."

Oh, now  _there's_ a familiar thought. Well, I suppose I'll just allow him to continue believing that. I have very little doubt that he'll be proven wrong, Kurosaki always seems to find a way to match whatever power he needs to be at. "Good luck then, Bach," I offer with an edge of sarcasm, "I hope your invasion goes  _just_ the way you've planned it."

He sweeps out without another word, closing the door soundlessly, and leaving me once again on my own. Well, apart from the corpse at my feet. I look down for the first time, impassionately flicking my gaze over the small pool of blood and the uniformed Shinigami in it. No one too powerful I imagine, and certainly no one I recognize. Just bad luck that he happened to be stationed down here today – or tonight, perhaps.

Still, all I can do is wait and see what happens.

* * *

 

It's not much longer before another guard arrives, and they take my sight from me once more, which leads me to believe that the Vandenreich have withdrawn for the moment. Whether that's because of defeat, or something else, it's impossible for me to know. After that, things return to normal. A visit from a guard once a day to feed me, and nothing else. It's something like twelve days before I get another deviation.

The footsteps are different than what I'm used to, and a guard had come by not long beforehand. They move close to me, and then stop. After a few moments of silence I offer a smile around my gag, shifting slightly in the binds. There's not even an inch of give.

After a minute or so, where the only sound is the faint breathing of the person in front of me, there's the rustle of cloth and the warmth of skin before I feel the binds fall away from my face. I blink my eyes open, looking up, and get a warm thrill of amusement.

Kurosaki. So, it's as I predicted.

He doesn't meet my eyes until he's unhooked the gag, then his brown eyes meet mine. He's silent for a very long time, and I take the opportunity to study him. This Kurosaki is not the one I'd faced, the boy thrown into the ocean to swim or die, but I don't think he's quite a man yet either. The muscle I can see beneath his Shinigami uniform is hard, lean, and the extra time since last I've seen him has stripped the last of the boyish features from his face, leaving him with a sharp jaw. He's handsome, all the good qualities of his Shiba heritage shining through and none of the bad, and his eternal frown has softened somewhat. It's not gone, but it's a faint furrow of his brow that's more habit than feeling, and not the guarded scowl of the past.

More importantly, this Kurosaki is clearly confident. He reminds me quite a bit of the Kurosaki I'd faced in our last showdown, honestly. He's not the fidgety, restless, impatient young man that Soul Society had thrown at me, he's grown up. I can see the hilt of a blade sticking over his left shoulder, this one clearly different than his original, but the more obvious sign of his increase in power is the much shorter blade on his right hip. I would guess that Kurosaki now understands what he is, there are very few secrets that could have survived an invasion of Quincy.

"Aizen," Kurosaki greets, voice bare of any inflection but the tiniest hint of wariness.

"Kurosaki-san," I reply, offering him a small smile. "Why the visit?"

"Bach mentioned coming down here," he answers calmly, "and I realized I really hadn't asked where you were. Shunsui told me that they were going to reconsider your sentence, which they never told me to begin with."

I restrain the urge to smirk. "I take it you don't approve of my current sentence?"

He sighs, shaking his head. "No," he admits, "but what other options were there? As far as they were aware, the Hougyoku would have protected you from anything they tried to do." Past tense.

"That would be what they're reconsidering then?" I ask, he nods. "Shame. Twenty-thousand years is a long time, but it is only time. Their alternatives will likely be somewhat more inspired. Have they told you what they are considering the viability of?"

"No," Kurosaki says softly, "but I heard anyway. They're considering removing your power."

Even dulled as she is, I can hear Kyouka's scream of fear and anger. That is not a fate I had given any real consideration to, since I assumed I would be executed when defeated. It is not a pleasant thought at  _all_. I have spent hundreds of years training, perfecting, every aspect of my skills. I was gifted with powerful reiatsu at birth, but it was  _I_ who pushed it to its full potential. All those years of work, destroyed in an instant, and Kyouka Suigetsu, my partner, the reflection of myself and my invaluable companion, gone?

That is nothing less than the removal of everything that makes this life worth living. It is  _murder,_ it is perhaps one of the cruelest fates the Central 46 could inflict to someone of my power.

Something of what I'm thinking must show through, because Kurosaki tilts his head to one side and speaks. "You can't say you don't deserve it, Aizen."

I cut down the anger that springs sharply to the tip of my tongue, my eyes narrowing. "Excuse me?"

Kurosaki doesn't back down, his eyes narrowing in response to mine. "Everyone you've hurt, killed, what you tried to do? You deserve it."

I offer him a sharp smile, restraining the urge to cut Kurosaki back down to size. Powerful or not, he is still just a  _boy_. "Let me clarify this for you, Kurosaki-kun," I say instead, with mock sweetness. "You want me to agree that I deserve to have the power I spent hundreds of years honing and perfecting, destroyed for my actions? That I deserve to have the core of my being, the lifeblood that burns through my veins, and has since I was a child, taken by the decree of those who would call themselves my betters, yet can't hold a candle to what I have accumulated? You ask me to say that the punishment, and it will be nothing more than that, of hearing my blade, a reflection of my soul that I have cherished since I first discovered her,  _scream_ as they rip her from me, will be justice?

"And then to face whatever will remain of my life, at least a few hundred more years, as an empty husk of myself. I would rather serve an eternity in chains, or be put to death, than live that life. Do not demand my agreement that the murder of my lifelong partner will be deserved, Kurosaki. You will not get it."

"You can live without it," Kurosaki protests, "it just takes some time."

"Don't pretend knowledge where you have none,  _child,_ " I almost snap, and his eyes narrow. "You were human. For you, reiatsu was an added bonus, something new and empowering. Losing it was simply returning to the life you had before. You have no  _idea_ what it is like to be a true Shinigami, a couple years as one does not give you that knowledge. I am not human, Kurosaki, I have not been human for over three  _hundred_ years, I do not recall a moment that I have not known the feeling of reiatsu." Perhaps my voice is sharp, but I have no interest in pandering to Kurosaki at the moment. It only takes a moment to decide to go for the throat. "Your connection with your zanpakuto is a passing _glance_ shared between  _strangers,_  compared to what I have with Kyouka Suigetsu. Do not  _dare_ to claim knowledge of reiatsu and zanpakuto at your age, Kurosaki."

He flinches, and I manage to find enough enjoyment in that to relax and force a quiet laugh.

"Besides, what is death to a Shinigami, Kurosaki-kun? To a  _god_ of death? A blank slate, a new chance at a new life, a fresh opportunity. Restarting my existence would be preferable."

He's quiet for a moment before answering, head rising. He's still confident, the determination that makes him such a formidable foe, easy to read in his eyes. "You'd prefer the end of life? Death might not be the end, but it would be the end for this version of you. You'll be someone completely different."

"What ignorance," I comment, ignoring the small burst of anger in his eyes. "You cannot change a soul, Kurosaki-kun. A different name, a different life, a different set of learned personality traits, perhaps even a new face, but it will be  _my_ soul. But a life without reiatsu, that would only be life if that's what you wished to call it. It will strip me down to a husk of my former self, if I don't survive it that will be a relief."

Confusion, this time, and I wait for him to ask, "Why wouldn't you survive?"

I smirk. "Captains who step out of line are executed, Kurosaki, not stripped of their powers. As far as I am aware, it has never been done before with even a normal captain, let alone someone of my power. After all, before you we had the Soukyoku, which removed souls from existence, why do anything less permanent? My soul has been running off of reiatsu for so long, the sudden and complete lack of it may simply kill me. Even if I survive the initial days, I could end up crippled, paralyzed, or even too weak to move without help. Do you understand why I would choose to restart my life instead?"

Kurosaki's silence is telling, his eyes lowered to the ground, and unbidden, a small idea takes hold. He may be just a boy, but he is powerful and unwilling to stand for anything he does not believe in, that could make him a useful tool. Perhaps I can press him into deciding to aid me, if he believes my situation is unjust enough. The very faint sense of approval tells me that Kyouka agrees on the course of action.

"If you do live, what are they going to do with you?" Kurosaki asks, meeting my eyes again.

"I was not aware they were planning anything, before you visited," I counter, and to my surprise one corner of Kurosaki's mouth tilts upward in a small smirk.

"And that would stop you? You've thought about it, haven't you? You've got ideas."

"Fair enough," I say with a small smile. I haven't truly considered it, but I can make up fates on the fly. Soul Society is nothing if not predictable. "There are a number of possibilities, which I have narrowed down to those most likely."

"Care to share?" he asks after a moment of silence.

I'll start with the fates I've seen other prisoners given. "The most likely, is that they will simply lock me inside a cell deep in the earth and forget about me. Without reiatsu I will not require food, or water, nor will I be a threat, so they can quite literally never bother with me again. The rest of my spiritual life, which will still be hundreds of years, I will spend in solitude and silence, confined."

Kurosaki winces, and I smother a smirk. Yes, it would make sense that the idea of being confined for so long would not sit well with the boy. He is a free spirit, after all. If Kurosaki had proven to be a threat, if he had not gained control of his hollow, perhaps that same fate would have awaited him.

"They may also, once my reiatsu is removed, hand me over to the twelfth division. Kurotsuchi Mayuri is always looking for new test subjects for his various experiments, not to mention that he will likely wish to study the Hougyoku. That will likely be a much shorter life, though infinitely more painful."

This time the reaction is a clenched jaw, and Kurosaki looks away. He knows, I'm sure he's heard from his Quincy friend what Kurotsuchi has done. "Shunsui wouldn't let that happen." The boy is confusing joviality for kindness, and I doubt Kyouraku would get much of a say in it anyway.

"Really?" I question, eyes narrowing. "The captains and Central 46 have turned a blind eye for a very long time, you think that will stop now? What are a couple thousand tortured souls for the advancement of technology?" I'm only exaggerating a little, surprisingly. I don't believe Kurotsuchi has got his hands on more than a thousand and a half. Legally, anyway, and not counting the members of his division.

"I'm happy to debate with you, Kurosaki, I have little else to do, but you asked me for my list. They may contact your Quincy friend, Ishida Uryuu, or his father, for a public execution. They would bring me in front of the masses, and have whichever they summoned kill me. You know the difference between Shinigami and Quincy, correct?"

He nods. "Quincy kill hollows, Shinigami purify them."

Be polite, don't mock the boy's ignorance. "A basic version, but not the whole truth. A Shinigami purifies a soul with their powers, and sends it on to its next life, be it a hollow to a soul, or a Shinigami to the cycle of rebirth. A Quincy's powers destroy the soul they are used on, permanently." I allow my hands to clench on the arms of the chair I'm bound to as Kurosaki's eyes widen, his skin paling, and turn my gaze to the ground, letting a bitter smile slip onto my face. "I admit, that is the fate I am most concerned with. The rest are, in the end, temporary. Even if the stretch of time is long, and the imprisonment painful or insanity inducing, eventually I will die and return to the cycle of rebirth. But if they decide I am dangerous even without my powers..."

"You'll just be gone," Kurosaki says softly, and when I raise my gaze again his eyes are filled with pain. Interesting. He is standing here, so I assume the Vandenreich have been defeated, but perhaps not without casualties. How many of the boy's friends have died, how many died to the Quincy?

"Yes. A soul killed by a Quincy's powers is wiped from existence, permanently. As a Shinigami, knowing what we do, it is hard not to fear a death like that."

The best lies are founded in truth. I will take any other punishment with a smile on my lips and a pride they will not break, but if they bring a Quincy to end my life... I will bargain for a better end, and if they refuse me it then I will use all of my accumulated knowledge to strike them each where it will hurt the most. The Shinigami fear me, as they should, and they are aware that I know all of their dirty secrets, all those things that they cannot risk the public masses knowing. Most of all, they fear that even if they destroy me, my next life will make me just as much of an enemy to them. If they think of this course, they will use it.

Kurosaki recovers somewhat, taking in a deep breath. "Destroying your soul? Isn't that a little extreme?"

I don't bother containing the smirk that twists my lips. "They fear me, Kurosaki. Not just my power, or my abilities, oh no. They fear my intellect. They fear all the knowledge that I gained over my life, they fear all the secrets that I know. If they only destroy my power, perhaps I will whisper things no one should know, and bring their regime crumbling down around them. It's not an unbiased fear, I'll admit that."

"Then they should just kill you and get it over with," he almost snaps.

"Ah, but what if they kill me, give me a second chance at life, and I simply return to being their enemy? A ridiculous paranoia, but they may think that I will find a way to retain my memories and my ambitions, and I will rip the floor out from underneath them a second time."

Kurosaki pauses, studying me for a second. "And you can't, right?"

Oh, it is remarkably satisfying to know that Kurosaki is still wary of me, despite how well I am contained and how relatively helpless I am like this. "No," I say with a smirk. "If there is a way I do not know it, and obviously I will not be getting a chance to look now."

He stays silent for a couple more seconds, watching me. "You're lying to me about all of this, aren't you?" he asks eventually, though there's a hint of hesitancy in his voice.

I allow my lips to quirk, giving a soft sound of amusement. "No, Kurosaki, I'm not. It would certainly make things easier if I was, wouldn't it?"

Kurosaki snorts in amusement, lips twisting against in that tiny smirk. "Yeah, it would. Do you ever actually lie, or do you just omit facts and twist the truth to your advantage?"

"Is it my fault that most of the facts help my case?" I counter, and Kurosaki shakes his head. There's something almost reprimanding in his eyes.

"What the Central 46 is thinking of doing, or  _might_ do to you, may not be right, but that's not why you're telling me. You're trying to get me to help you, to interfere. You know as well as I do that there isn't anyone in Soul Society that can match me, and if you manipulate me into helping then there isn't anyone who can stop me." Good information. Has Kurosaki truly regained and grown enough that all of Seireitei would simply be helpless before him? That's rather impressive. "I can't claim to positively know when you're lying, but if you're honest about your intentions, I'm probably more likely to listen." He raises a hand, raking it through his own hair, and gives a soft noise of amusement. "I might not compare against your level of intelligence, Aizen, but I'm not a child, and I'm not an idiot. Be straight with me."

Well, I'd always been aware that Kurosaki was highly perceptive, in certain ways, but that was unexpected. Hm, I suppose I can try appealing to Kurosaki in his manner, it certainly isn't going to hurt.

"Very well," I concede. "I haven't lied to you yet, not in this conversation, everything I've told you is either a fact or what I truly believe. I admit, I told you out of a desire to influence you into feeling guilty, or ashamed, or even to feel pity for me, so you would seek out the truth of my sentencing and then decide to intervene. I have absolutely no hope of making it out of this cell, or out of Soul Society's hands, on my own, not unless they make a foolish mistake."

"So, what do you think your most likely fate is, then? If they remove your power. Imprisonment?"

"Not any longer," I admit, and when Kurosaki's eyes flicker in confusion I offer him a small smile. "Do you truly believe this cell isn't monitored, Kurosaki? I have no doubt that every word of our conversation is being recorded and forwarded to the Central 46. If they had not already considered wiping my soul from existence, now I have informed them it is a possibility. They will wish to dispose of me in the most thorough and permanent way possible, and that is it."

Kurosaki's jaw tightens, anger that I honestly can't pinpoint the source of heating his brown eyes. "So you planned this too?" he asks quietly, and it takes me a few moments to figure out what the hybrid is referring to.

_Oh._

I can't help it, I laugh. The straps bite into my ribs, no give in how tight they're pulled, but I ignore the slight pain in favor of my mirth. The anger in Kurosaki's eyes melts away to confusion, though the muscles in his jaw stay clenched.

"You give me too much credit, Kurosaki," I manage eventually, not making any effort to hide my smile. "Though it is extremely gratifying to know that I have everyone, even you, believing that everything I do is planned to the most minute detail. Most of it is, yes, but not all." I give a quiet chuckle, smirking. "Sometimes, Kurosaki, you are as easy to predict as that the sun will rise, but others you act in ways I find completely unfathomable. I did not believe you would ever inquire after my fate, so I did not plan for a visit from you. Telling you of the Quincy method of execution, and consequently telling Central 46, was a calculated risk. I made the gamble that if it occurs, you would dislike it enough to consider helping me, talking with the Central 46 if not outright intervening. However, all I could do was guess at your reaction, you are much different than the boy I originally manipulated, I could see that at a glance. Perhaps you've learned what war is like, the terrible things that must sometimes be done to put an end to things, and would merely look the other way and allow them to destroy me. Perhaps you still will."

Kurosaki's eyes widen in surprise, before narrowing. "Wait, you don't know what's happened?"

Another laugh that I don't bother containing. If Kurosaki wishes me to be honest with my reactions, so be it. "Do I look like I get news down here?" I ask, my amusement obvious in my tone. "I knew the Quincy had survived, in a form, and I knew that eventually they would strike. I decided not to inform anyone, true enough. Given that Juha Bach came to my cell, I assume they did indeed invade, and since you are standing here carrying swords and talking about the Shinigami, I assume they were defeated. In no small part thanks to you, I imagine. Bach's conversation told me very little, and my guards simply do not speak to me, so unfortunately I know almost nothing about the content of the battle itself."

Kurosaki studies me for a few long moments before giving a tiny nod, sighing. "Yamamoto is dead," my eyes widen slightly in surprise, "and so is Unohana."

For a few moments it feels like the world has dropped out from under me. Old as I am, as much as I know, Unohana Retsu seemed all but eternal. Every captain quelled under her gaze, her presence was enough to inspire fear even in me. Yamamoto I had intended to kill, so though his power had been monumental, it wasn't something I considered out of reach. But Unohana, the former Kenpachi? She was a peace keeper, a healer. Regardless of her violent past I had not in my darkest dreams imagined killing her.

"Truly?" I ask, and he nods. "By the hands of the Quincy?" If her soul has been wiped from the world, the loss will be felt  _very_ keenly. Yamamoto as well, but Unohana without a doubt.

Kurosaki shakes his head, pain darkening his eyes again. "Yamamoto, yes, to Bach, but not Unohana. She was killed by Zaraki, something about unlocking his full potential. I wasn't there yet, so I don't know much about it other than that it worked."

Ah, yes. I know the story of Unohana and Zaraki's first meeting, and I had my own theories about why Zaraki's power seemed to fluctuate so randomly. At least Unohana will eventually rejoin the universe, and Seireitei hopefully.

"Who has replaced them?" I ask, curious.

"Shunsui, for first division," thus Kurosaki's earlier statement, now it makes sense, "no one for fourth yet. Isane has been running them for the last week or so, till they have an actual captain."

"She won't be easy to replace," I comment, and Kurosaki shakes his head again.

"No, she won't," he agrees. Kurosaki sighs, crossing his arms. "Too many people have already died to the Quincy, especially recently. Looks like your gamble paid off, Aizen, I'll talk to the Central 46." He turns to leave, and I speak up.

"They won't listen to you," I warn. "Hero or not, you are still a child in their eyes."

He stops, looking back at me. "Like in yours?" he asks, before giving a tiny smirk. "What are they going to do, Aizen, ignore me? I've got too much power for that, they'll listen."

* * *

 

Nothing happens for at least a week, and then one day, out of the blue, I get pulled out of my cell. I recognize the route to the Central 46 chambers, and when I'm sitting in front of them – what a convenient transportable chair they've bound me to – I offer the screens hiding their identities a smile. The binds over my eyes have been removed, as well as the gag between my teeth, but I stay silent for the moment.

It's best to see what they want, or what they've decided, before I risk anything with speech. I have no doubt they will tell me within the first few minutes, they never seem to be able to resist telling me things I don't know. It does come down to Kurosaki's interference, however. I have no doubt he spoke to them, Kurosaki isn't one to go back on his word, but whether they listened to him or not, that is a different question altogether.

"Aizen Sousuke, you are aware that we have been discussing a change in your sentence?"

I give the tiniest inclination of my head. "Of course," I answer easily. If they didn't watch all of my conversation with Kurosaki, if they don't know how little I am aware of and how much of my knowledge is assumption, then I'm certainly not going to tell them.

A voice from my left speaks, and I allow my gaze to turn to the screens on that side. "Aizen Sousuke, you are guilty of treason, the murder of at  _least_ forty-six separate shinigami, the hollowfication of eight previous captains and vice-captains, the continued creation of arrancar, and the attempted murder of every other captain and vice-captain, as well as a number of others."

Well, that last part is an exaggeration. I had no intention of actually killing any shinigami, with the exception of Yamamoto and Kurosaki, I needed them intact once I took the throne, but I suppose there's no sense in debating the finer details of my betrayal at this point.

"After some study, with the help of the exile Urahara Kisuke, on the Hougyoku, we have determined that it will be possible to enforce other sentences besides imprisonment. As such, we have renegotiated your sentence among ourselves."

This time, I can't help but speak. "Without asking me?" I mock. "How rude."

To my surprise, no one tells me to be silent, or keep my mouth shut. Interesting. So, they believe they have truly defeated me this time, they are finally recognizing my words as what they are, an empty front.

I hear the door open behind me, and the speaker becomes one of those directly in front of me. "Aizen Sousuke, your soul will be permanently destroyed, as punishment for your actions." I still, smile falling from my lips, and the speaker continues. "Four captains will bear witness, as well as all of us."

They come into view, and I hold my tongue as they circle to stand in front of me. Kyouraku, as expected. He is head-captain now, he has to have signed off on this. Soi Fon is another natural choice, considering her loyalty, and her position as head of the Omnitsukido. Hitsugaya is a slight surprise, but that also makes sense after a moment. After all, the young captain despises me. If there is anyone who will not intervene, it is certainly him. The last is Hirako, and the sight of my old captain brings a tiny smirk to my face.

So, they'd replaced some of the captains that I'd turned into vizards. That's surprisingly open minded, considering the Seireitei's track record. Obviously Hirako is one of them, but I have to wonder how many of the other vizards have returned to their positions.

Following the four captains is the slim figure of Ishida Uryuu, dressed in a white dress shirt and grey pants. Yes, I suppose that having a Quincy, regardless of affiliation, running around in standard Quincy uniform would be an unpleasant experience for the rest of the ranks. Though, I admit to being mildly surprised that they didn't recruit his father instead. This Ishida is young, though I wouldn't call him naïve in the same way as Kurosaki, and his apparent willingness to kill is interesting. I'm actually fairly curious what occurred in the battle against the Vandenreich, and if this younger Quincy had a part in it.

"Do you have any last words, Aizen Sousuke?"

I raise my gaze from studying the four captains, and one Quincy, back up to the screens. "So, you've chosen to ignore Kurosaki then?" There's a long few moments of silence, before anyone answers me.

"Kurosaki's objections have been noted, but as he holds no actual position in our ranks as of yet, they mean very little. He will be informed of our decision after we are finished here."

I doubt that the Central 46 has any idea what they are inviting, alienating Kurosaki like this. If they are this willing to go behind the back of, apparently, the most powerful ally they have, I highly doubt they will even consider any attempt to negotiate for a lighter sentence. Since that's the case, I will not lower myself by offering them the choice. They will just have to manage without any of the information I have. They have no idea what they're missing out on.

"Entertaining, how Kurosaki is only praised when it is  _convenient_ , hm?"

"Kurosaki is under investigation for his visit to you, as well as several of his decisions in our war with the Vandenreich," the speaker's voice is sharp, "and when his allegiance is secured he will be offered a position among the Gotei 13."

I wonder if Kurosakiknows _any_  of this.

My gaze lowers in time to see the uncomfortable, and in the case of Hirako, angry, expressions on the captain's faces. At the least, the captains are aware, and none too pleased about it. At this point, it is doubtless that most have been saved by Kurosaki at one point or another, and the rest have at least seen his actions. He may not be one of them, yet, but he is a powerful ally. This distrust clearly doesn't sit well with them.

I offer a smirk. Well then, I suppose I should take my revenge, before they get around to actually executing me. There are only the four captains present, but that will have to do. They will remember me for a long time, and perhaps never look at each other quite the same way again. I will  _not_ go quietly.

The door slams open with a loud crash before I can open my mouth, and the heads of the captains jerk upwards. Given the expressions, and the entrance, I'd bet a fair amount that it's Kurosaki coming towards us.

"Ishida," one of the Central 46 spits, and the Quincy moves with only a second of hesitation. The blue bow forms into his hand, and the arrow is headed towards me before I can do more than blink.

Someone blurs into view in front of me, and there's the telltale explosive noise of something impacting with the ceiling above us. It only takes me a fraction of a second to recognize Kurosaki in front of me, the long blade still hooked over his back but the short one held in his left hand, upraised. I hook the pieces of information together, realizing that Kurosaki very likely redirected the arrow and prevented my death.

"Kurosaki," a member of the Central 46 to my right says, with a fair dose of anger, "step aside!"

I can't see his face, but when Kurosaki speaks his voice is a low snarl. "No, I won't."

"Captains, Ishida! Kurosaki is allying himself with the traitor, take what steps are necessary!"

Kurosaki's free hand raises to his main sword, feet sliding into a combat stance, and the bend of his form allows me a glance past him. None of the captains look very eager to step forward and fight the younger man, and though the younger Ishida's bow is still present, it is somewhat lowered. That's a rather convincing piece of proof that Kurosaki's words had been true, that he has evolved so far that even the combined force of the powers in this room would be unlikely to stop him.

"Back down, Uryuu," Kurosaki snarls, "you've got enough to make up for already, don't add anything else to that list." Oh, now  _there's_ an interesting bit of information. I hadn't really considered the idea that Ishida might have joined up with the Quincy, but that's certainly what Kurosaki is implying happened. If so, it's remarkable he's still breathing. "I count all of you as friends," the young hybrid says, a little louder, "but this is  _wrong_ , enough people have died to the Quincy already and I  _won't_ let another."

"Ichigo, please," Kyouraku's voice is soft, a quiet plea, "you know he deserves it. Step out of the way, I have no desire to force you."

"No, he doesn't!" Kurosaki all but shouts. " _No one_  does!" His hand tightens a little on the blade of his second sword, and then draws it over his shoulder and out of its protective wrapping of cloth. "I beat Bach, his lieutenant, and  _you_ ," aimed at Ishida, undoubtedly, "by myself." He slips a little farther into his stance, the distinctive taint of a hollow coloring his voice. "Which one of you thinks you can take me?"

The glances shared among the captains quickly tells me that  _none_ of them think it, and it doesn't surprise me. That list of accomplishments is truly impressive, and now I know for a certainty that Kurosaki wasn't exaggerating. Even if such a battle wouldn't destroy half of Seireitei, I doubt that the four captains in this room would have any true chance of defeating the hybrid in front of them.

Bach and I truly did create a monster, I suppose it's a good thing that he also developed such a well defined moral compass. It's a terrifying thought to consider what he could have done if he had the lack of morals and ambition of, well, me. Soul Society wouldn't have stood a chance.

"Ichigo," Kyouraku starts cautiously, "we have to do something, I'm sure you know that."

"You're  _not_ destroying his soul," the younger man answers without hesitation, and Kyouraku's head tilts in acquiescence.

"Very well, we won't." I have to wonder if that's true, or if the moment that Kurosaki's back is turned they will finish what they've started. Fear is a powerful motivator, after all. Perhaps even powerful enough to risk angering a force like Kurosaki. Even if the new head-captain is telling the truth, will the Central 46 honor that promise? I doubt it. "But something must be done."

Kurosaki is silent and still for a decently long time, and then he flips his larger sword and shoves it into the floor in one movement, prompting a flinch from both Soi Fon and Hitsugaya. He turns to me, and before I can ask what he's doing, reaches forward with his now free hand. I give a sharp gasp as his hand rips through the black bindings covering me and into my chest, and then a low sound of pain through clenched teeth as he pulls, and I clinically realize the fact that he's physically ripping the Hougyoku from my chest.

His eyes are narrowed when his hand leaves my chest, red blood staining his skin and the Hougyoku glinting in his hand. His jaw is tight, and even through the film of the surprisingly large amount of pain – something to do with my bound reiatsu, I would bet – I can tell that he doesn't like what he's doing.

"Kurosaki," one of the Central 46 says sharply, "what is it that you think you're doing?"

He glares up at them, over his shoulder. "You wanted something  _done,_ didn't you?" he snaps, and as his left hand rises, light glinting off the short sword in it, everything clicks into place. After all, I'd said it, hadn't I?

" _What is death to a Shinigami, Kurosaki-kun? To a **god** of death?"_

The blade comes forward, sinking into my chest, and I give a stuttering exhale, hands clenching down on the arms of the chair. It's not a perfect blow, death won't be instant, but without the Hougyoku and without my reiatsu, it will be more than enough. He leaves the blade, releasing the hilt as he turns back to the assorted shinigami.

"There," he all but snarls, "it's over."

His hand is clenched tightly around the Hougyoku, and I give a weak chuckle that is little more than a whisper. Urahara's creation might still have been implanted in my chest, but it hasn't truly recognized me as its master for a long time, not since my defeat. But now it's back in the hands of someone powerful enough to control it, and like it or not Kurosaki has gained ownership of it. It will no longer respond to anyone else.

How  _fascinating,_ and they don't even know.

"You can't just," a different Central 46 member starts, and Kurosaki cuts him off.

"Don't you  _dare_ tell me what I can't do," he hisses in a deadly tone, and I can see the hand around the Hougyoku tremble, "not after what I've sacrificed for you. You're all  _damn_ lucky that I'm the person I am, because you couldn't take me down if you  _tried_."

The world is fading, but I force my eyes to stay open, to watch the scene playing out in front of me. A last amusement before my impending death, surely I'm allowed that?

Soi Fon steps forward, eyes worried, hand on the hilt of her blade. "Kurosaki, please hand over the Hougyoku. It needs to be contained."

The hybrid boy – no, not a boy, not anymore – looks down at it, and then his bloodstained hand tucks the gem inside of his clothing with a measured finality. "No, I don't think I can trust you with it. I'll take care of it, no one will use it again."

"Kurosaki,"she says in a slightly sharper tone, "I can't let you do that."

He pulls his larger blade from the ground, sheathing it across his back, before meeting her eyes. "Then stop me," he says simply, and turns to me.

The shorter blade leaves my chest, and the ensuing rush of blood blackens my vision.

I don't know what he'll do with it, or how likely Kurosaki is to continue to serve Seireitei after this, but I can feel a tiny smirk tug at my lips. The final victory, a blow dealt by the shinigami straight to themselves, is highly gratifying. Knowing that Kurosaki has been disillusioned to the shinigami, even just this small amount, is worth it. There was no better fate awaiting me anyway.

Death, is only rebirth.


End file.
